


Honey, I'm Sorry

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Babysitter Castiel (Supernatural), Blanket Forts, Breakfast, Breaking The 4th Wall, Cas's Mad Honey, Castiel's Wings, Childish Dean, Childish Sam, Comforting Castiel, Comforting Dean Winchester, Cuddles, Dean and Sam Hallucinate together, Dean is a Sweetheart, Dean shamelessly flirts with Cas, Dean wuvs hugs, Fluff and Crack, Flustered Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Inspired by a "Did You Know?" Tumblr Post, M/M, Mad Honey, REO Speedwagon - Freeform, Sam Winchester Freaks Out, Sam Winchester Knows, Sam and Dean in pajamas, Singing Trees, Toto's Africa, the Dean Cave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 04:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Dean and Sam dip into Cas's hidden jar of honey in the Bunker's kitchen. But is there a reason why Cas kept this to himself? The boys see for themselves just what they've gotten into, while Cas deals with his biggest challenge yet: two high as all hell Winchesters.(Inspired by a "Did You Know?" Tumblr Post about Mad Honey)





	Honey, I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! I saw this post on Tumblr, and remembering how everyone loves to put Cas and bees and honey together, thought I might do something like that... but with a twist.
> 
> Enjoy!

            Dean and Sam trudge their way into the kitchen, one after the other, Sam practically stepping on his brother’s heels. They diverge, with the younger Winchester sitting at the table, the older one opening the fridge.

            “I’m thinking bacon,” Dean says, pulling the ingredients together, moving towards the cabinets, “Pancakes… eggs… the hash browns will go bad if we don’t use them… and you know what, since I’m in a good mood, I’ll even make French toast.”

            “Wow Dean,” Sam yawns, scratching at his wild sleep-tussled hair, “Are you gonna put the cholesterol on the side or just bake it in?”

            He turns to him, finger wagging, “I ain’t making you a smoothie, or any of that muesli crap. And the only omelet I make substitutes your spinach for _cheese_.” At the ferocity of Sam’s bitch-face so early in the morning, Dean takes another dive through their food stock to abate his brother’s health kick.

            There’s a glass jar of honey, tucked away – something you wouldn’t see at first glance. He pulls it forward, catching site of the sticky note on it.

            _Cas’s Honey – DO NOT TOUCH (This means you, Dean)_

            “If that were the case why would you challenge me so directly,” Dean mutters, snorting as he takes it out of the cabinet. He rips the pale yellow message off, crumbing it and sticking it in his robe pocket. “Hope this is organic enough for ya,” he tells Sam, shaking the jar just enough to get his brothers’ attention.

            Sam rolls his eyes, “With you, that’s probably all I can hope for in the matter.” A beat. “At least it’s not in the shape of a bear.”

            “You don’t speak ill of him,” Dean stops, glaring, “That bear did nothing wrong!” Sam holds his hands up, dropping the issue. Now it’s time for the other brother to roll his eyes.

            “I should have this all done in half-an-hour… maybe more,” Dean says, turning towards the stove. He starts buttering the pans, “You wanna help or…?”

            “I’m gonna go grab a few books,” Sam says, standing up, “Do you want me to get any or…” He fully wakes up at Dean’s scandalized expression, “Yeah, dumb question. Next time we say ‘this is the last one’ we should seriously listen to ourselves.”

            Dean calls to Sam’s retreating figure, “You said that after our _last_ marathon!” Waiting for no response, Dean starts laying the bacon down, sighing as the sizzle hits.

            Starting up the other foods on their menu, Dean turns to Cas’s honey. Unscrewing the lid, he took a sniff. ‘ _Nothing out of the ordinary…_ ’ he thinks, ‘ _Wonder why he put this away?_ ’ He sticks a finger in, swirling it to catch a good amount before sticking it in his mouth. Dean’s eyes light up, and a smile forces its way on to his face. “You son of a bitch,” Dean moans around his finger, licking it clean, “Hiding the good shit on us… when you get back I’m so gonna ride your ass for where you got this…” A thought flutters through his mind, “Or maybe let you ride mine…” Another beat, “Nah, as if he’d ever…”

            Sighing, Dean adds a healthy dollop of the honey to each of his pans – even the bacon! Sam walks in a good while later to Dean thoroughly cleaning off the spoon. They lock eyes, Dean’s tongue pressed flat against the metal. He pulls back slowly, sheepishly, when faced with his brother’s flat look.

            “Seriously?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs in response.

            “You wanna try?” he offers, sliding the jar over to him, “It’s good.” Dean turns to the stove, blinking in surprise. He turns it off, frowning, and stiffly starts to plate.

            Sam ignores his brother’s weird attitude and grabs for his own spoon. He takes a healthy dollop – ‘ _To test_ ’ – and crams it into his mouth. Smiling around the utensil, Sam hums.

            “Do you hear that?” Dean asks, sliding the last pancake on to the stack. He waves a hand around, “Sounds like that damned fly…”

            “Where did you get this stuff?” Sam asks, taking another spoonful.

            “Dunno?” Dean says, walking over to the table, plates in hand, “Cas got it. I think my favorite part is how it changes colors…”

            “Changes… what?”

            Dean doesn’t answer, instead stuffing his mouth with as much bacon as he can. He holds his hand out, grabbing the air until Sam places the jar back in his grasp. Sam joins him across the table, gathering his own breakfast together.

            He does pause for a bit, when the fork in his hand starts to melt. But in the next blink, it returns to normal – like nothing happened at all.

            ‘ _Damn_ …’ he thinks, staring at it, ‘ _Getting too old for these marathons…_ ’

* * *

 

            Cas drives up to the Bunker’s entrance, cell phone pressed to his ear. “I’ll call you back in a little bit, Claire… Yes, yes I just got here… I’ll make sure to let them know and – no, I won’t tell Dean _that_! I’m sure Jody has something for you to do… I’ll see if I can get them to come next time I visit… all right, I love you, too. Goodbye.”

            He hangs up, stuffing the device back into his pocket. Getting out of the car, Cas starts his way towards the door, only to pause when he catches sight of a familiar figure.

            Dean gapes up at a nearby tree, standing, still dressed in his robe, t-shirt, and boxers. Cas changes course, stepping over the crunching leaves until he’s standing right behind him. The other man gives no notice to his presence.

            “Dean?” Cas asks, fingers lightly brushing his shoulder, “What are you doing?”

            “This tree… it’s been singing REO Speedwagon for the past half-hour,” Dean mutters, “I tried to get it to stop, but it stole my slipper…” Cas looks down, taking note of the missing item.

            “That’s… Dean, I don’t hear anything –“

            “They only have the one good song!” Dean shouts, reaching for his other slipper, “And even after the fifth time it gets old!” He chucks it up, flying towards the nearly bare branches. Cas watches as it tangles within them, joining its mate where it rests only a few feet further up.

            “Dean,” Cas starts, pulling the hunter away, “You should lie down… you must not be feeling well…”

            The hunter turns to face Cas now, hazy eyes finally alighting with recognition. He grins, tossing himself forward, “Cas! When did you get back!”

            “I’ve been… not – not too long –“

            “Oh man it felt like _forever_ ,” Dean whines, pulling away. He seizes Cas’s hand and starts to drag him towards the entrance, bouncing with excitement, “We need to show Sammy you’re here. By the way, m’digging the hat.”

            “My… hat?”

            “Yeah,” Dean continues, “Like, how did you find something with that many colors? I think I even saw a few I couldn’t even _name_.” They make it through the entrance, “Sammy! Sammy! Look who I found! And he has a hat!”

            Cas follows Dean down the stairs, staring wide-eyed at the main area, where Sam has built a nest for himself out of books, blankets, and pillows.

            “ _Deeaann_ …” Sam whispers, half-hidden under the covers, “Keep it down! You don’t want It to find us!”

            The elder Winchester tilts his head, “It? What do you mean?” He gasps, “Is it like a dog? Beer? _Cas!_ ” Dean slaps Cas’s arm, “Did you hear that Cas, you might find us!”

            “What is going on?” Cas asks, moving towards Sam. He crouches, reaching a hand out to brush a cool hand across the other’s forehead. “You feel hot… but I’m not sure it’s from sickness… what did you two get into while I was away?”

            “Not much,” Dean shrugs, shuffling over towards them. He plops himself onto Sam’s cocoon, practically crushing his brother. “Went on a hunt, watched a few flicks, polished the chrome, and… oh!” He searches through Sam’s mess, pulling out an empty jar and shoving it into Cas’s chest, “Where did you get this?”

            “Where did I…?” he asks, inspecting the glass. There’s a slight residue still left on the bottom, just enough for the angel to test. After one taste, Cas understands just what the problem is.

            “Dean!” Cas sighs, “I clearly said not to touch!”

            “People say that but they don’t mean it,” Dean says, “Like… don’t touch the grass? Don’t touch the art? Don’t touch the pretty angel… _but_ …” he taps Cas’s nose, “We don’t listen!”

            Ignoring the butterflies in his chest, Cas decides to take action. He stands, putting the empty jar of honey onto a nearby table.

            “I need the two of you to listen to me,” he starts, clapping to gain their attention. Dean refocuses his sight from the ceiling to him, while Sam shoots up, shaking and startled.

            “What you both ingested was not meant for you, and I hope this is a lesson for the future,” he starts, “This was no ordinary honey… this was special honey I ordered from Nepal. It’s most known for its special ability to… cause hallucinations, but as I am an angel, this did not matter to me. _Which was why_ I labeled it sufficiently to make sure only _I_ could eat it. Do you understand?”

            “Your eyes are twinkling,” Dean giggles, tapping at his cheeks, “Like stars’s… twinkle twinkle…”

            He sighs, kneading at the space between his brows. “Can either of you tell me how long ago you ingested the honey?” he asks.

            “Hmm…” Dean thinks, rubbing at his chin. Then, his entire face, both hands making soothing circles on his cheeks, shaping it like clay; “Prickly…” he whispers, chuckling softly to himself.

            “We… we had just finished breakfast like an hour ago,” Sam starts, pooling the blanket around his shoulders, “I remember because I noticed It slithering by the oven, and Its shadow passed over the clock. After that I ran and hid…” He screams, diving under the sheets, “Cas! Watch out – it’s behind you!”

            “Sammy, stop being silly!” Dean says, patting his brother’s form, “Those’re just his wings!”

            “My – you can _see_ – you know what… _nevermind_ ,” Cas mutters, crouching back down to talk to Sam. He joins Dean’s hand on the Winchester-shaped lump, trying to coax the younger Winchester out of his hiding place. “Sam, what are you seeing? What do you believe – I mean, what did you see?”

            Sam peeks his head out once more, his long hair sticking up at all angles: the perfect match to his crazy, twitching eyes. “ _Clowns_ …” he whispers, “Slithering… all around us… we tempted fate with our Stephen King marathon yesterday… _It_ wants to _eat me_.”

            Dean leans over to Cas, mouth pressed right against his ear. “I think Sammy’s hallucinating,” he whispers, “He didn’t even mention the dancing bacon.”

            “Sam,” Cas starts, pushing Dean away, “You have nothing to fear from this… creature while I’m here –“

            “Or me, Sammy!” Dean cuts in, beating his chest, “Me big hunter man… can take down any monster!”

            “So why don’t we get out from under there…” he reaches into the pile, searching for Sam’s hand. When Cas finds it, he squeezes, and tries to tug him out of the tangled sheets. However, the younger Winchester surprises him with his strength, and pulls the angel into the mess.

            “No!” he shouts, “This is the only thing keeping It away!”

            “Sam, you really need to –“

            “Dog pile on Cas!” Dean joins the two men, crashing between them. He glues himself to Cas’s side, arms tied around his chest and a leg curled between the angel’s. His head nestles itself under the crook of Castiel’s chin, where his soft hairs tickle at tanned skin.

            “I did not imagine that would play out like this,” Cas mutters, knocking his head back into the pillow.

            “Me neither,” Dean purrs, “If Sammy and his moose friends weren’t here… we’d really make dreams come true.”

            “Moose…?”

            “They’re makin’ a real racket, too,” Dean carries on, “ Going ‘wah!’ all over the place. Like – I get it, we’re in Canada, but you don’t have to be so vocal about it.”

            “Dean,” Cas starts, “We’re in Kansas.”

            “That’s what they want you to think,” Dean leans up, smirking, tapping at Cas’s nose again, “But it’s cheaper to film up in Canada. Production budgets and what not.”

            “We’re not in Kansas?” Sam cries, “Toto! Where’s Toto?”

            “Did you check Africa, Sammy?”

            “That’s enough!” Cas fights his way out of Dean’s embrace, rising from his soft grave. He turns on the brothers, glaring. “I want both of you to go to your rooms until the effects of this honey wears off!”

            “But – But I can’t!” Sam cries, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, “It’ll be there! I barely made it out of there the last time I went in – if I didn’t distract him with my hair It would have gotten me!”

            “And I’m not goin’ anywhere without Sammy,” Dean pouts, gathering his brother in his arms, rocking them back and forth, “We’re a package deal – like Vietnamese Twins.”

            “That’s Siamese – I don’t even know why I’m correcting you,” Cas sighs, “Alright… if neither of you wish to part,” he looks towards the hallway, an idea coming to mind, “Why don’t we bunker down in the Dean Cave. I don’t think the clown monster will think to look for you, there – seeing as ‘Sam’ isn’t in its name.”

            Sam mulls the offer over, finally nodding. “But I wanna bring all my stuff with me,” he mumbles, “Don’t want It to get it.”

            “Sure we will, Sammy,” Dean comforts him, “Cas’ll carry it for us. He’s big and strong – right, Cas?”

            “Um – uh, yeah?”

            Dean stands now, Sam with him. He takes the lead, guiding the younger Winchester towards the Dean Cave hand-in-hand. In Sam’s grip, a blanket dusts the floor, trailing behind them. Cas watches them until they disappear from sight, and then re-focuses on the soft pile below him.

            “Next time I buy something for myself,” he sighs, gathering the blankets and pillows and books, “It goes straight to my room.” After a short while, he has Sam’s entire nest in his arms, and begins to waddle after the others. ‘ _How did he get this all out here?_ ’

            When he finally gets to the Dean Cave, Cas dumps the parts on the ground with a huff. Both brothers look over their shoulders from their seats. Sam visibly relaxes, catching sight of the angel. But Dean leaps from the seat, rushing over to Cas, his robe fanning out behind him.

            “Cas!” Dean yells, skidding to a halt at the edge of the travelling nest, “When did you get back?” He blinks, tilting his head down, “And why is there a puddle here? Is it leaking? I thought I heard thunder…”

            “Dean, can you please take your seat?” Cas asks, scrubbing a tired hand down his face. The older Winchester nods, turning on his heel. However, his foot catches on one of the sheets, slipping the ground out beneath him. Dean falls, landing face first on the floor.

            Sam screams, watching from his seat, “It has him! You said he couldn’t get in here!”

            “And It can’t Sam, Dean just tripped,” Cas calms one Winchester while he moves to check on the other. He turns Dean over, letting him rest on his lap. “Dean? Dean?” Cas tries, shaking him, “Are you okay? How’s your head?”

            “Haven’t had any complaints yet, Cas,” he mutters, dazed, “Why? Wanna see what the hype’s all about?”

            Cas shifts his concern into a cool look, pushing Dean upright once more. “You’re _fine_.”

            “Wait!” Dean reaches for him, grasping fro Cas’s wrist, “You’re not gonna kiss it all better?” Green eyes widen, and Dean’s usually perky lips have turned down. Cas rolls his eyes, but doesn’t pull away. Blushing, he leans forward and quickly pecks Dean on his forehead.

            “Satisfied?” he asks, looking at every little detail in the room save for Dean’s face.

            “Not really,” Dean sighs, “Didn’t even get to kiss back –“

            “Cas!” Sam whines, “Close the door! It’s almost here! I can see Its tentacles!”

            He sighs, moving away from Dean to fully shut the door. Cas kicks the mess closer towards the center of the room; “Everything that you had out there is now in here, Sam. Do with it as you will.”

            The younger Winchester dives into it without further warning. Cas makes his way towards the chairs, collapsing into them. He’s allowed one brief moment of rest before a heavy weight slams into him, knocking the unnecessary breath out of his lungs. Dean wiggles deeper into the seat, pressing his ass flush against Cas’s crotch, muttering, “Why is this so lumpy… _Sam’s_ is the one I got off the side of the road.”

            “Dean… sitting… on me.”

            “Yeah, I wish,” Dean scoffs, looking behind him, “Cas? When did you become a chair?”

            “After I was done being a doormat,” Cas huffs, “Now do you mind?”

            “Sure I mind,” Dean laughs, “You mind, Sam minds… I mind all the time! But here, let me get comfortable for the both of us…” He shifts, draping himself across Cas’s lap. His legs hang off the side of the chair, kicking freely, and he curls his arms around Cas’s neck.

            “Comfy comfy,” Dean says, “You feel like feathers, Cas… ‘n’ not just your wings. Although those are soft too…” He reaches out, trailing fingers over the space Cas’s wings occupy. Though they may exist on another plane, Dean has a more than accurate guess as to where they are.

            ‘ _How powerful was that honey_?’

            “Those do look pretty, Cas,” Sam says, startling the angel out of his musings. He turns to the other Winchester, sequestered back underneath his protective shell. His face sticks out from his wrappings, gawking at Dean’s wavering fingers.

            “All of Cas is pretty, Sammy,” Dean yawns, “From his halos to his toes.” He giggles, “I know Sam that rhymes.”

            “Sam didn’t say any –“

            “What else am I thinking?” Sam asks, leaning forward. Dean turns his stare to Sam, squinting at the other man. He smirks, leaning back into Cas’s hold.

            “Cacti.”

            “And I thought I was psychic!” Sam laughs. Cas blinks between the two of them.

            “Sam,” he starts, “You cannot seriously have been thinking of cacti at the time.”

            “I don’t know,” Sam says, swaying in his seat, “But now that Dean said it it’s all I can think about!”

            “They’re prickly,” Dean mutters, touching Cas’s face, “Like your face. Like _my_ face! Wait a minute…” He pitches forward, pressing cheek to cheek, and rubs. “Prickly,” he titters.

            “Careful, Dean,” Sam leans forward, “You’re rubbing against a cactus!”

            “A Cas-tus,” Dean says, “I’d love to be pricked by that…”

            “How long does this last?” Cas whines.

            “Why don’t you tell us a story?” Sam suggests, “Time always seems to fly when you read… or when you strap wings onto a clock…” he eyes, the nearby timepiece, “Nope, still normal. Stay that way!” He turns away for a beat, then looks back, “And stop following me! Your eyes are too big to be acceptable!”

            “Okay… a story…” Cas starts, tapping away on Dean’s thigh, “Have you heard of the – uh… the ‘Two Brothers’?”

            “Two brothers?” Dean parrots, “Sounds like us, Sam. I like stories that are relatable…”

            “Very relatable,” Cas says, “So as I was saying… two brothers, who travelled in their trusted, sleek, black chariot…” 

* * *

 

            Dean comes to with a sharp pain in his ass and a crick in his neck. He smacks his lips together a few times, blinking open one eye, adjusting to his surroundings. “Ugh,” he groans, rubbing his head, “Wha’ happened?”

            “Hello, Dean.”

            “Jesus –“ he flails, falling off Cas’s lap and back onto the ground once more. Scrambling into a seated position, Dean glares at the angel and his soft smile. “What the hell, Cas?” he asks, “Why was I on your lap?”

            “Because I couldn’t remove you from it,” he supplies, turning at the sound of Sam’s groan, “And good evening to you, Sam.”

            “Evening?” Sam mutters, scrubbing at his eyes, “How is it evening? And why am I so sweaty?”

            “Cas what in Chuck’s name happened to us?” Dean demands. He stands, folds his arm, and taps his foot – striking a serious posture. The effect is lessened by the soft smacking sound Dean’s bare foot makes against the floor.

            “A lesson to not take what does not belong to you,” Cas tells them, “Right, Dean?”

            The older hunter freezes, going from expectant to sheepish within seconds. He pouts, and looks away. “How’d you find out?”

            “You told me,” Cas says, “While Sam was hiding from clowns –“

            “ _Clowns_?”

            “Well, just the one – from the new Stephen King film,” he continues, turning back to Dean, “and after you were yelling at nature.”

            The older Winchester flusters, and turns to his brother, “See? This is why we never eat anything organic!”

            “What was in that honey, Cas?” Sam asks, stepping out of the blankets, airing out his shirt.

            “A certain chemical that causes hallucinations in creatures without tolerance, like _angels_ ,” Cas explains, shooting a pointed look towards Dean, “Which is why I had it _clearly_ labeled.”

            “I saw your _label_ ,” Dean scoffs, pulling the note out of his robe pocket, “I just… thought you were hiding the good stuff from us. I wouldn’t have even noticed it if Sam over here didn’t bitch about my cooking!”

            “Sorry I don’t want to go out because of a high cholesterol problem, Dean!”

            “At least it’s better than being taken out from clowns!”

            “Oh yeah,” Sam smirks, “At least I didn’t embarrass myself in front of my _crush_.” The barbed comment hits at Dean’s heart, sending him into a state of distress. He flusters, spluttering for a response as his mind whirls about, trying to cling onto any conversational ledge that could save him. Finding himself in a free fall, Dean relies on a faulty safety net.

            “You embarrassed yourself in front of my crush,” he tries, “Wait – shit, I mean…” he looks between the two, Sam’s face set in the fond, familiar cruelness of victory while Cas’s looks (‘ _hopeful… no, he couldn’t be…_ ’). “Whatever,” Dean says instead, stomping away from them, “I’m getting changed.” He leaves the other two in his wake.

            “So,” Sam turns to Cas coolly, “We didn’t really do anything _too_ embarrassing, did we?”

            “No – not really,” Cas starts, trying to recover from the shell shock of Dean’s confession-by-proxy, “I mean… a few things, but none that would ever leave the safety of my memories.”

            “Thanks,” Sam says, starting to leave, “Oh, by the way, Cas…?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Can you order some more of that honey?” he asks, sheepish now, “I mean… I think it’s unfair I spent most of my time hallucinating about monsters…”

            Cas smiles at him. “Of course,” he says, “Just let me know next time you do use it – and save some for _me_.”

            “Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did ya like? Leave me some love in the kudos and the comments to let me know what ya enjoyed!


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